


Baby Don't Go Now - Pull Me Closer

by nobetterlove



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, BAMF Peter Parker, Blood and Violence, Bottom Peter Parker, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Dealing, Drug Lord Peter Parker, Gun Violence, Kidnapping, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mechanic Tony Stark, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: Peter Parker is a drug lord, the runner of a big underground company after his uncle died in the line of "duty". The king pin can do just about anything - other than change a tire. A mysterious mechanic just might be the answer to all of his problems - including the tire.This was just an excuse to write King Pin Peter Parker - enjoy the ride!
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 147





	Baby Don't Go Now - Pull Me Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> I found a prompt list on tumblr (thanks @thaliastxrk!) and this one popped right out. I thought - why not see what I can make of the multiple facets of one Peter Parker. 
> 
> Welcome to the result! 
> 
> Here's hoping you guys enjoy :D

It all started because of a flat tire. 

For all that Peter was worth, he could easily admit that he couldn’t change one. The legacy that Ben Parker left behind did not include teaching his nephew how to change the oil or check the tire pressure – or in this case, replace the damn thing. The timing couldn’t have been worse, either. There’d been a delay in their shipment, so he was very late for a meeting with a prospective buyer. It wasn’t often he took those types of meetings himself, but this one had the potential to be a big addition to the empire Peter picked up from the ground when Ben was killed a few years ago. 

He’d been dreading having to get in the car by himself – ever since his parent’s car accident, which was years ago, Peter didn’t like cars – especially driving them. When Happy called him to say there was a break-in at one of the distribution centers, there wasn’t much Peter could do – his head of security needed to be there to handle shit. Which left Peter to climb behind the wheel of the Cadillac himself – his teeth gritting and anger rising with each passing second. 

Being a drug lord obviously did not excuse him from normal human inconveniences – such as rogue nails that very easily fit between the tread of tires. Not knowing that the nail was in the tire, Peter drove on it. He only made it about ten miles before the nail punctured into the body of the tire – air rushing out of it with an audible ‘whoosh’. Peter let out a muffled ‘fuck this’ and quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road. 

Sitting in the seat, Peter tried Happy’s number a couple of times, the man very obviously still trying to deal with their little problem. Pissed with everything about the entire day, Peter let his hands slam down against the wheel. He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths, the anger running through his veins a total waste – there was nothing he could do about this situation. If he filtered this feeling into his talk with whatever perpetrator was trying to steal from him – maybe he’d find the right outlet for it. 

Google was a magical thing; Peter’s fingers were quick to type ‘how to change a tire’ into the search bar and pull a couple different tutorials up. It seemed easy enough, yet each one of them required a jack and spare tire – both of which Peter did not have within the confines of the vehicle. Clenching his hand tightly, Peter fought the urge to put his fist through the back window – maybe that would magically produce the required tools to get him off the side of the road and on his way. Peter gripped his fingers a little tighter, his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand a grounding stimulus – he always responded well to pain. He felt a little more able to focus, then – his eyes roaming over the car for another second before turning his attention back to the phone. 

Finding a mechanic that wouldn’t take forever to get there wasn’t too much of a challenge – he had a quick conversation with a gruff man on the other side of the phone who promised a ten-minute turn around. Hip against the car, Peter flipped through the pointless Snap-Chat stories to pass the time. If the rest of the crew saw the amount of dog centric things he followed, Peter’s credibility would be right out the window. The little frenchies were the cutest things, though – that little whiny bark they did was worth risking his reputation over. A soft smile graced his face as he watched the little dog wail, the owner’s claim to it saying ‘I love you’ was pretty damn close. 

The videos were so absorbing, Peter didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until boots were crunching on the ground next to him – the sound a little too close to comfort. Letting a hand stray to the gun tucked against his hip, Peter turned his attention to the man coming up on him. He was carrying a toolbox and had a trucker hat pulled down low over what looked to be quite the mess of hair. Peter could see the slightest hint of a goatee, the mechanic’s chin covered in dark hair – the meticulous way it was sculpted a complete contrast to the unkemptness of the rest of the man. 

His voice cut through the silence, grease stained hands raising in mock-surrender as he spoke. “I come in peace. You’re Mr. Parker, right? I’m Tony – from Stark Motors. I’m here to give you a tow, though – it looks like you just need a quick tire change,” the man – no, Tony – said to him, his hand finally sweeping up to move the bill of the hat. The action was just enough to reveal cognac colored eyes, gorgeously structured cheek bones, and a smirk on candy apple red lips. 

Peter felt himself grinning, the look in his eyes most likely a cross between aggression and overwhelming arousal. It wasn’t often Peter let pretty things distract him. His focus was very narrow and the ‘business’ had been his priority since he’d been dragged into it a little earlier than he ever could have predicted. It felt good to not only uphold the legacy but run with it further and faster than his uncle ever could. 

Yet, he found himself staring at the man in front of him, anyway. Tony didn’t back down, either – he matched Peter’s glare look for look. There was heat in that glance – the pitch of it throwing Peter off a little. He could count on one hand the amount of people who stood tall to him like this – three of those people were dead and the other two were very important to Peter’s operation. Peter let his tongue run along his bottom lip to confirm his suspicions, a feeling of triumph rushing through him as he watched the other man’s eyes trace the movement. 

“Yeah. The idiot who usually drives this car doesn’t know proper car maintenance. There’s no jack or spare,” Peter replied, his voice cool, eyes still settled firmly on the man that was already leaning down to examine the tire a little further. The jeans he was wearing pulled tight around his thighs and ass, the grease stains on them adding to the vision of the walking piece of sex on a stick bent down so prettily in front of him. 

Without thought, Peter reached down to adjust himself – the blood rushing to his cock filling the length, thickening his shaft. Biting down on his lip, Peter forced his thoughts in another direction. “If you can just change it and get me back on the road – I’d be real grateful,” Peter kept his voice low, the arousal coursing through him unable to stay out of the words. His last statement sounded like a proposition – one that he wasn’t sure he’d be mad about the other man taking him up on. 

Tony didn’t look up, though, his entire being completely focused on the task in front of him. “Sure thing, boss,” the man muttered – his arms straining with the crank of the jack he pulled from the toolbox. Peter couldn’t describe how the combination of all the things the mechanic was doing affected him – he could already imagine those oil stained hands tight in his hair, strong arms pulling him back into every single one of his glorious thrusts. 

No one who had thigh muscles like his was foreign to the art of a good hip thrust. His mouth felt a little dry – the openness of his jaw probably contributing to the dehydration. Instead of boring him with chatter, Peter watched Tony work – the laser focus of this strange man interesting and sexy all at once. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to jump the attractive human in front of him – but need he did – need he do so very badly. 

The guy was right on the nose with his time estimation – the change only taking twelve minutes in the hands of a professional. Peter appreciated the way his deltoids and biceps flexed with every pull of the tire iron – the spare Tony wheeled from his truck now fit snuggly to the rim of the car. “This boot will get her another fifty miles or so – but you need to get it changed. Your alignment looks a little off, too. If you bring her by the shop, I can take care of you – I mean the car, for you.” Tony threw him a smirk over his shoulder, his eyes still heavy with heat, his glance matching the intensity of Peter’s. Grinning when Tony winked in his direction, Peter kept his eyes glued on the man’s backside when he walked back to his truck – all of the muscles visible in his tank top bulging with each step. 

The next thing Peter knew, a grease covered hand was holding out a business card. “Give me a call – I’ll help you out whenever you need it,” Tony let his fingers linger on Peter’s when he passed the card – then it was like he was never even there. The ghost of his touch lingered on the surface of Peter’s skin; the man already aware that he’d be using the number on the card very soon. Their gazes met once more when Tony opened the door and turned to get into the cab of the truck. “See you later, Mr. Parker,” Peter heard, his face breaking out into a saucy smirk at the words. He arched a brow and lifted his hand to wave goodbye as the truck started and drove past him. 

Shaking his head, Peter slipped the card into the breast pocket of his coat – there’d be time for that adventure later. He gave the spare a swift kick, a sense of satisfaction coming over him when the thing didn’t budge – it seemed that the beautiful Tony was also very good at his job. Good, Peter thought to himself. It might come in handy to have a talented man in his grasps. 

Throughout his time in organized crime, Peter learned how to read people. It usually only took him a minute or two to peg a person and when they eventually showed their hand, Peter was always ready. Tony shouted hidden potential – the secrecy that seemed to ooze from his pores was just as attractive as the gorgeous skin of his face and the luscious bulge of muscles Peter so desperately wanted to run his tongue over and worship one by one. Sighing, Peter reached down and adjusted himself again, his tongue running over his bottom lip again – that slight little touch already putting him so close to the edge. 

The buzzing of his phone caught him just before Peter said ‘to hell with it’ to the rest of the day and gave into the impulse to masturbate in the front seat of Happy’s car right then and there. He swiped his thumb across the screen to answer the call and straightened up – his free hand starting the car and putting it into gear. “Happy, tell me you have good news.” 

A few hours later, Peter felt much more satisfied. The meeting, despite starting late, went stupendously well – their new buyer was bringing in ties to many different distribution rings – and increasing their product overhaul by more than 10%. On the way to said meeting, he’d gotten the good news about Happy reprimanding the person trying to fuck up a key piece of the chain that kept the operation running. 

And since it was someone on the inside, Peter got to deal with it in his most favorite way – with blunt force and the sheer will of his fists. Like he thought earlier, the ability to take out his aggression in a tangible way really was the cure for a bad day. His knuckles were a little bruised and his favorite shirt would need to go to the dry cleaner – but his empire lived to see another day and make a few hundred thousand dollars. 

Finally with time on his hands, Peter pulled the card from his jacket pocket – the sleek nature of it a vivid discrepancy from the projection of the man he still remembered with almost perfect accuracy. It only worked to increase Peter’s interest – the multi-faceted part of this man something Peter didn’t think he’d ever experienced before, at least, not to this extent. 

Running his thumb over the black print, Peter chuckled at the fact that he’d been dancing with the head of the operation – and he never would have known it. The ‘Tony Stark, Owner/Operator’ wasn’t all that surprising, now that he let himself think about it. A man like that wouldn’t let anyone else do the work for him. Peter guessed that he probably only had one or two employees in the shop and each person working for him served a purpose – much like how Peter did his business, smart and efficiently. 

Typing the number into a new text message, Peter felt his face heat a little – the anticipation already building. 

**Peter Parker [7:35PM]** : I’m ready to be worked on.   
**Peter Parker [7:36PM]** : I mean – I’m ready to have my car worked on.   
**Peter Parker [7:37PM]** : I remember you saying you could help with that. 

He didn’t mention his name – the man once again letting the game unfold in front of him. If this guy was as smart as Peter figured him to be – there’d be no questions as to who was currently attempting to inadvertently seduce the fuck out of him. Peter couldn’t decide why – why he wanted Tony to pass his test, or for simplicity’s sake, why he even wanted to put the test down as a challenge to begin with. Whatever the case was – he chewed on his bottom lip and looked curiously at the phone. It felt weird – to be so antsy about the reply to something he said. For most of his life – Peter said what he wanted, when he wanted – to whoever he wanted. Still, he felt his stomach boil a bit, the prospect of something interesting for him personally a little more exciting than he was willing to admit. 

He forced himself to wait a minute after the phone vibrated to check it – each of the subsequent buzzes driving the want to just look at the damn thing home. Peter let himself be weak for once and reached for the phone – his cheeks warming at the responses.

 **Tony Stark [7:40PM]** : I can help with that.   
**Tony Stark [7:41PM]** : Both you and the car.   
**Tony Stark [7:42PM]** : Especially you, though. You seem like you could use a little more work than most.

Peter found himself trailing a hand down his chest – the flare of a tease coming in his direction a rare thing, a thing that could overwhelm him in a couple of short moments. He liked this – how confident yet restrained Tony seemed to be. This person would push back against him, listen to him and take orders, but demand things, too – be just as willing to take, to pull from Peter the things they both wanted. They’d only exchanged a few words in their acquaintance and he already knew – Tony Stark was going to be his. There weren’t things in this world Peter wanted that he didn’t get. And for the most part, it seemed like Tony was willing to give. 

**Peter Parker [7:48PM]** : You could tell that, huh? Just by looking at me.   
**Peter Parker [7:49PM]** : I’ll bring myself and the car around tomorrow.   
**Peter Parker [7:50PM]** : I’ll be interested to see which one you decide to service first. 

**Tony Stark [7:55PM]** : I could – but not by looking at you. It was the way you were looking at me.   
**Tony Stark [7:56PM]** : I bet I intrigue the fuck out of you. Someone who knows what you need and delivers without being asked.   
**Tony Stark [7:57PM]** : Me too. That Cadillac is going to be fun to get my hands on.   
**Tony Stark [7:58PM]** : I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Parker. 

And just like that, the conversation was over – the feeling washing over Peter new to him, yet good all the same. Peter couldn’t get one of the texts out of his head. ‘Someone who knows what you need and delivers without being asked.’ It stirred something in his crotch – that much was for sure. He could only imagine how good it would feel to silently give up control, to be read like a book. Everyone looked to him all the time – to make decisions, to clean up messes, hell – to shed the blood when necessary. What would it be like to sit in the passenger seat for once – to merely be along for the ride? It seemed – in a very short amount of time – he’d be finding that very thing out. 

\---- 

The next morning brought several things to Peter’s plate – the first of many being a second break-in attempt at another distribution center. That’s what he got for letting the slightest ounce of niceness creep to the surface. The severe beating the man took the night before was not enough to dissuade him and a couple of others that were trying to find a way to cut themselves into the business – wanting to use his own product against him. Peter was hoping to head into the day with ease – enjoy a good workout, maybe have some breakfast before heading to the mechanic, where he thought he might enjoy a little something there, too. 

Instead, he spent the majority of it cleaning up a mess – one that ended up putting more than a few other heads on the chopping block. Washing his hands of it all, Peter left Happy with the cleanup and took the Cadillac. It was approaching six in the evening – he wondered if Tony Stark was as good as his word. 

Pulling into Stark Motors, Peter smirked when he saw the man in the front office – the rest of the building looking to be pretty empty. He parked by the only open garage door and walked into the office, a flash of heat slamming into him – Tony was looking at him expectantly, an eyebrow quirked. “I was wondering if you’d show,” the words were accompanied with a teasing smile. Peter felt himself relax for the first time all day – a thought that he’d need to ponder later on. 

He quickly pushed it aside and strode a little deeper into the office – “There were a few things I needed to take care of before I could get away. The underworld never sleeps,” Peter said dryly, his eyes glued to Tony in front of him. Today, the man was sporting a cut off hoodie, his tank top underneath black instead of white. The hat on his head was turned around – and there was a singular grease stain slashed across his cheek. The overall look was an instant turn-on, the exact thing Peter needed after such a shitty day. 

Tony must have understood, he threw a wink in Peter’s direction and moved towards him. “Got it. Come with me, Peter Parker. Let’s get you all fixed up,” Peter watched Tony’s lips form the words, his eyes heavy with undisguised lust. Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, Peter followed wordlessly, the hand Tony slipped into his own was warm, surrounded by thick fingers and work marked palms. The only work Peter did with his hands was so very easily washed away – the trace of it something he wanted to get rid of. 

Yet, his fingers itched to trace the callouses, cuts, and burns littered across Tony’s right hand. He figured after a little bit of exploration, Peter would be able to see those same marks up and down the man’s arms – the true sign of a hard life’s worth of work. Grinning to himself, Peter didn’t try to fight the thoughts of what those hands would feel like spreading themselves all over his sensitive skin.

They stopped abruptly at Peter’s car, Tony dropping his hold on him in order to tap the hood. “I need to get her up on the lift. Keys?” Those very hands were suddenly in his face, the oil under his fingers adding another level to the arousal coursing through him. 

Digging into his pocket, Peter pulled out the keys – the bulk of them dangling between his thumb and forefinger. “I think a little insurance payment is in order,” Peter mumbled, his hand already moving to the back of Tony’s neck, the older man slipping in to close the distance between them. The press of lip on lip was a little rough, Peter’s teeth digging into Tony’s bottom lip enough to draw a little blood – the metallic tang of it sexy, a nice piece of evidence that he could draw blood in a good way, too. He tore himself away, the hand on Tony’s neck moving to pat the man’s scruffy cheek – a swift blush rising to the surface. Tony quirked a brow but said nothing – his quick fingers grabbing the keys out of Peter’s now distractedly open palm. 

The effortless way Tony maneuvered the car onto the blocks had Peter’s voyeuristic side foaming at the mouth – the man’s movements better than any porn he could watch. Tony stepped out of the car and grabbed Peter’s hand; the grip tight – reassuring. He watched the other man pull a stool from the work bench at the front of the garage, Tony using the leverage on Peter’s hand to propel him into it. 

“Sit. Watch. Touch yourself if you want – I’m going to do work on the car first and then I’ll see what I can do about you.” Tony said the words with a tone that didn’t speak of asking questions or denying – each one burrowing into Peter’s skin, getting under it, finding a way to attach itself into the pores there – settling. His eyes felt like they were huge – his expression one of surprise, both in himself and the way Tony handled him with ease. No part of him wanted to do anything other than sit in the chair and do what the other man said. 

He could feel Tony’s eyes on him while the man worked – he seemed deft enough in the art of changing tires that he could do it with his eyes closed, or in this case, settled firmly on Peter. Though he didn’t out right pull his cock out, Peter let his fingers eagerly open the button of his slacks and practically yank down the zipper – the immediate relief of pressure removal had his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Each time Tony looked over at him, Peter cupped the very apparent bulge in his pants – the fabric encasing his length getting moister and more humid by the second. 

Couple that with the view of long hands working flawlessly, Peter was going out of his mind in no time at all. He couldn’t decide what he liked most about the situation, either. As promised, Tony seemed to know what he wanted – the long game, a little stop around all the bases before the winning hit. The man’s eyes were scorching hot every time they brushed his skin – and the tease of it was fanfuckingtastic. Yet, he dreaded each second of anticipation – the more time without hands on him or his own fingertips against skin felt like torture. 

There were many times he almost felt all ability to control himself zapped away – a particular glance catching a nice view of Tony’s ass or the glistening pulse of a muscle under stress. He wanted so very badly to pull all of his clothes off and finish right then and there – but he forced himself to think – where the hell was the fun in that? There was a small time where Peter collected himself and brought himself back from the edge – the other man disappearing under the car to fuck with the alignment or something helping considerably.

Then, he was getting back into the car and pulling it from the lift – the car now fixed and ready to be driven around again. Though, it was pretty obvious that Tony had other ideas when he got out of the car and walked right over to Peter. It looked like he didn’t bother cleaning his hands off, either – the smell of oil on them pungent, invading Peter’s olfactory senses, kicking them into overdrive. Dirty hands pulled him up by the front of his shirt – the two now standing nose to nose, sharing breath. 

His suspicion was confirmed when Tony’s hands palmed his cheeks – the slickness of the oil so evident on his skin, the feel of it like a brand. The man’s lips were insistent upon his own, his tongue finding the gap between Peter’s and pressing forward. Tony traced every inch of his mouth – Peter’s moans filling the silence in the garage around them. A hand slipped between them, wandering fingers slipping between the gap of Peter’s stomach and the waistband of his Gucci boxer briefs – rugged fingertips finding and collecting the steady stream of moisture at the tip of his cock. “Oh, fuck – “ Peter gasped out, his lips breaking away from the kiss, his chest heaving. 

“Not yet,” Tony mumbled, his eager lips already moving down the line of his chin and neck, the other’s sharp teeth digging into his collar bone to emphasize the point. The hand around him pumped slowly despite the hard grip holding onto Peter’s length. He was in the trap of a vice grip and not enough friction – the best kind of conundrum. 

Then, all of the sudden, Tony dropped to his knees, the hand in his pants now at his hips – working his pants down and around his ankles. With little finesse, Tony used the grip on Peter’s sides to guide him back down into the chair – his cock now at the same level as Tony’s eager lips. 

Peter couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t hesitate, either. 

There was no look up for approval or the delicate question of permission. Tony took – he dove straight into his task and performed with expert level accuracy. Peter’s fingers found their way into the thick nest of hair on the back of Tony’s head, his grip light – just enough to help push Tony’s head down that extra inch. 

Tight lips wrapped around the head of his leaky cock – Tony’s mouth opening just enough to slip past it and swallow down the whole length. There was no hesitation to bring Peter’s dick into his throat, either. Tony’s throat relaxed and welcomed the tip – spit and drool dripping down his chin. The sight was sinful – a page directly out of Peter’s book of fantasies. The real kicker came when Tony added a finger alongside the hard cock in his mouth – the feel of the digit making Peter pulse, the coil in his stomach winding up, ready to spring back at any moment. 

Sliding his lips to the rosy tip, Tony pressed his finger between Peter’s legs and applied pressure to the hidden rim – the touch insistent. He watched Tony take his entire length to the root into his mouth and apply more pressure with his finger, the digit slipping in without much restraint. Peter pulled the hair in his grip, the tightness of the tug a touch too hard – probably painful for the other man. Yet, he felt Tony’s moan vibrate down every inch of his cock, the sound almost as sinful as the sight of the man making it. 

The whirlwind of reaching the edge smacked Peter over the head – his vision a little blurry as he pressed both hands into Tony’s hair and pulled, his hips rising to make up the difference in space. Tony relaxed around him and let the thrusts come, his finger working to keep up, the slightest hint of tears in his eyes driving Peter on, taking his orgasm from deep within and pulling it to the surface. “Ah, Tony – I’m coming,” Peter moaned out desperately, his hips shifting forward one last time – a groan leaving his lips. The other’s throat clenched around him, the skin so fucking sensitive from stimulus overload – the collective feeling absolutely delicious. 

A tap on his thigh had Peter loosening his grip and pulling his hips back – Tony’s eyes watching him with interest. The older man was seated on his heels – an obvious bulge in his jeans, his forehead sweaty, chin still covered in spit. “I’ll take you up on the offer to fuck you now,” Tony panted out, his hand wiping at his chin without success – the glistening sheen simply moving around, becoming sloppier. 

Despite just getting his mind sucked out through his cock, Peter’s skin flushed from Tony’s words – the never-ending pool of heat within him starting to simmer, the edges bubbling ever so slightly. He watched Tony got up, leaned down, and fisted his shirt, those red and used lips pressing hard against Peter’s, their teeth clacking together ever so slightly. Both of his hands moved to twine around Tony’s neck – and the other man used it to his advantage, strong arms wrapped around his hips and pulled him to his feet. 

Being pressed against him this way, Peter could feel the extent of Tony’s erection, the hard length so obviously straining against the front of his jeans. He meant to slip a hand between them – to take Tony in his hand, but he quickly lost track of his thoughts, his entire body was moving, being so easily maneuvered by the man wrapped around him. Before what seemed like the next heartbeat, Peter was face down against the hood of his Cadillac, the metal smooth and cool against his exposed thighs. 

Tony was the most efficient human Peter could own up to meeting. His fingers found their way between Peter’s lips – “suck on them,” he vaguely heard, though he’d already drawn them into his mouth, his tongue laving up and down – in between and around. A soft moan left his lips when those fingers left, Peter suddenly feeling empty. 

The thought didn’t linger long, though – those very fingers were pressed against his somewhat relaxed hole, the burn of a sweet stretch dragging a low sound from his lips. “Fuck, Tony,” Peter mumbled, his hands scrabbling to find purchase where there was none to find. Getting onto his elbows, he could turn his head enough to suck in deep breaths – the sensations insane after that first orgasm. The scissoring motion felt amazing and Peter could easily feel himself open up – Tony’s ministrations exactly what he needed. 

It’d been a while since he’d done this with another person, Peter wasn’t afraid to admit that. And when he did, they weren’t so eager to hold him down and have their way with him. This kind of adrenaline didn’t come often and Peter to tried to grasp onto it – it felt good to let someone else make him feel good. That thought played across his mind with every second that past between hearing Tony spit into his hand and the blunt press of a very hard and nicely sized cock to his entrance. Tony used the leverage of the shirt neither of them thought to take off to bottom out – his hands gripping the fabric hard.

There was a brief pause when skin meet skin, both men dragging in desperate breaths, Peter adjusting, Tony trying his best not to cum before the fun even started. Peter felt himself relax, something inside him clicking and turning that flash of pain and tightness into pleasure and fullness. He rolled his hips back, the universal signal to go. Tony didn’t disappoint, either – he wrapped his hand around Peter’s waist and moved the one fisted in the back of his shirt to a chiseled shoulder. The move pressed Tony in a bit more, the head of his cock hitting Peter’s prostate without effort. 

The weight of Tony pressing him down had his dick rock hard again – the thought of that almost enough to bring him over the edge within seconds. The man was not afraid to throw his weight around, either – he pulled and tugged, pressed Peter down to get a better angle. There wasn’t much Tony wouldn’t do to drag every ounce of pleasure out of them both. 

Peter let out a shout when Tony’s hand wrapped around him and started to stroke to the time of his thrusts. He felt a little helpless, face down without the ability to get up, the entirety of his pleasure in the hands of someone else. And it was exquisite – feeling himself speared between Tony’s cock and hand was enough to pull him over again, the man’s name fresh on his lips with each pulse of cum from his oversensitive cock. Teeth dug into his neck and two hard thrusts followed – Tony finally finding himself jumping off the cliff to join Peter in the pit of bliss. 

Ever the gentleman, Peter noticed Tony didn’t spend much time laying weightlessly against him – the metal of the Cadillac not the most comfortable spot, after all. Peter watched over his shoulder as Tony stripped off his hoodie and tank top – he pulled out and used that very same tank top to wipe them both down. A soft chuckle escaped his lips; what a picture the two of them must make. 

A now familiar arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him upright – Peter sighing at the feel of lips pressing against the side of his neck. After all of this, Peter already knew one thing – Tony was a collection of extreme opposites, his demeanor so unpolished, gruff – but his touch was soft and reverent, like Peter was fine China. It was enough to be addicting, so much so that only other thing he knew for certain was how easily he could keep doubling the dose – wanting more and more of what Tony had to offer. 

\---- 

After that, it felt scarily easy to incorporate Tony into his life. Happy inspected his work the very next day and deemed it much better than anything he could remember seeing. So – Peter started to send associates Tony’s way, knowing that keeping Tony equipped with steady work meant keeping the man happy. Of course, he tried to keep the illegality of his business out of Tony’s reach – it seemed important to draw a distinct line between his man and the rest of his shitty world. For whatever reason, Peter felt the need to protect Tony Stark. Maybe it was the way he could play Peter like a well-known tune, or maybe it was simply because he liked him. 

Since that night in the garage, Tony started to show who he truly was and how he planned to treat Peter. There was the incredible sex, of course – there was no denying the chemistry between them. Peter took orders like the good boy he could be in Tony’s arms. In daily life, he kept everything tied together in a neat little bow – it was mandatory to have all the cogs and pieces running together. His uncle’s biggest mistake came from being unable to juggle all the balls needing to be in the air at once – if one fell, they all did. Being with Tony, Peter felt like he could finally trust someone to do a bit of the work – even if it was just for a little while. The way Tony could take him apart and piece him back together a better person – every single time – it couldn’t be ignored. 

The thing that surprised Peter the most was the calm Tony brought to the storm of his existence. Despite trying to keep some of the facets from him, Tony was too smart not to understand what Peter did, how he managed business – the type of man he sometimes needed to be. There was a fine line between the Peter who could cut someone down with a couple of words and the Peter that would literally cut someone down. And sometimes, that line would easily be crossed – there was nothing and no one that could stop him. Another thing his uncle didn’t have, he’d come to know – the volatile temper a thing that was both a beautiful benefit and disastrous disadvantage. Tony, in all of wisdom and silent grace, kept calm and collected – his eyes sharp and fierce in the moment, his brain working every single angle of the problem. 

The realization that Tony was easily going to keep up with him came during some of the greatest sex of his life. They were tangled in the sheets of Peter’s bed, Tony sliding in and out of him at a ludicrous pace – every few strokes, he’d speed up or slow down. The man going so far as to pull out completely, the head of his dick on the rim the only remnants that he’d been so very deep inside. “I’ll do anything, Tony – please, let me cum,” Peter mumbled, his hands half-heartedly struggling against the fingers holding them down and pinned to his back. Tony was using his grip on him to push into Peter as deep as he possibly could. There wasn’t an answer for a few strokes – Tony’s pace ruthless, the depth of his strokes bumping long and hard against Peter’s prostate every single time. 

“Just relax, baby. That’s what you’ll do. Relax and let me get you there,” Tony’s voice was coated in arousal, the words broken up by pants and grunts. His grip tightened, Peter more than sure he’d have bruises there before they were even done. It was sensation overload and not nearly enough. His body hovered just barely above the sheets, his cock a couple inches shy of getting friction, touch – anything to help douse the fire. It felt like there’d never be any relief – and then Tony was changing his grip. He took hold of both of Peter’s wrists in one hand, his weight shifting to press him further into the mattress. The other went straight to the divinely exposed length of Pete’s neck, fingers gripping the back of it tightly. Tension of the touch pressed the side of his face to the mattress, his power now completely stripped from him. 

Another shot to the prostate and the steady hum of Tony telling him to cum sent him straight over the edge, his body caught between slamming back into the cock pummeling in and thrusting forward, his spasming erection still desperate for any kind of contact. Peter shouted with his release, Tony’s name and a plethora of fucks streaming from his lips. 

The second he felt like the black dots weren’t going to stick around, Peter glanced up to see the door to his room ripped open – Happy on the other side looking sheepish. “Happy, what the fuck?” Peter screamed, his entire being trapped in the pleasure/pain/sensitivity trio that encompassed a post orgasmic haze. He felt Tony keep thrusting against him, the man not giving two shits about Pete’s personal security guy standing in the doorway. Tony finished with his face pressed into his neck, Peter’s name mumbled into the skin there over and over. 

Tony had no shame – and Peter needed that in his life. 

It became very obvious to everyone around them that Tony was a permanent fixture not long after that. Over the last few months, they’d been dealing with semi-regular break-ins, the culprits now too spread amongst a group of suspects they were quickly trying to narrow down. He tried his best to keep Tony out of it – but that didn’t matter, Peter was quickly learning that the older man did what he wanted, when he wanted it. The trait so familiar and no less frustrating. 

They were eating dinner when Happy came, several of his security team in tow. They were dragging in three men that were tied up – the most probable ring leaders of this whole fucking shenanigan. Peter got up, abandoning the half full plate he’d been thoroughly enjoying beforehand. The inquisition was just a formality, Peter was more than sure Loki, master of tricks, was behind it all. It became apparent that Tony did too, his voice loud in the room – “Loki’s full of shit. He’s been fuzzing your camera footage for weeks now.”

Peter looked over his shoulder at the other man, so many questions on the tip of his tongue. Where the hell did a man like this come from? Braun, beauty, brains – traits that no one human should be able to possess. Pulling the gun from his hip, Peter pointed it at the other two men, the idea that they’d sing like canaries working almost masterfully. The facts rolled off of their tongues, each plot, idea – all the things to implicate all three of them. 

Looking up at Happy, Peter titled his head, a silent conversation happening between them. The firm set of his eyes told Peter everything he needed to know. Without another thought, he shifted the tension in his hand and pulled the trigger – three square shots silencing the immediate threat. 

For the time being, at least. 

Tony didn’t bat and eye when Peter turned around and grabbed his wine glass, a quirk in his brow. “Want to go for a soak?” he asked with a grin, his smile widening as Tony got to his feet, the action answer enough. 

The next time they saw Happy, he talked to both Peter and Tony, his eyes finally meeting the other man’s for the first time – ever. The thought warmed Peter to his very core – he didn’t have to worry about Tony’s acceptance, anymore. Happy was enough – everyone else would follow his lead. 

And Peter had to admit – it felt good to have someone by his side. It felt right to enjoy another human looking out for him and him alone. Because, when it came down to it, Tony didn’t want anything from him. He liked Peter’s time – he willingly went out of his way to be there when Peter could be. It was obvious he more than liked Peter’s body – there wasn’t a singular doubt about that. They enjoyed each other’s company. But other than that, there wasn’t another expectation. Peter remembered a time when people would flock to him to get a stab at his money, or a foot in the door, or fuck – he couldn’t even recall half of the bull shit reasons. Tony – he was there because he wanted to be. Silly to think a thug like himself could luck out like that. 

Which is why it made sense that the people so eager to hurt him would go after the person he cared about – probably more than anything else. The day it happened, Peter was in a great mood. Things were surprisingly quiet. Quiet enough to warrant warning bells going off – yet, he didn’t think, didn’t anticipate what could possibly come next. He had plans with Tony later that night – they’d been together a year to the very day. 

It should have been the perfect combination of fun and flirty – a night filled with good food, great booze, and fantastic sex. Instead, Peter was startled by Happy – the man’s face set in a grim line, the same expression he wore when Ben died. “What’s going on?” Peter demanded, his hands gripping the edge of his desk – he’d been about five minutes away from stepping out the door. 

“You’re not going to like it,” Happy started, his hands already coming up in the plea for surrender. “It’s Tony – we got a call about ten minutes ago. They’re demanding names, access codes – a total sweep.”

Peter saw red – the blood colored flash of aggression he was so used to blanked out his vision – his heart started to thump in his chest, his blood pressure rising with every beat. The only thing he could hear for a couple seconds was that raising heartbeat – the sound soothing, familiar. He soaked it in, then forced himself to focus. “Well, fuck that. How do we get him back – our way, Hap,” Peter demanded, his eyes on fire – words laced with it, too. 

“I’ve got a team set up – intel was able to trace the location. We’ve got a plan.” Peter listened raptly as Happy described where they were keeping him – one of the old distribution plants that hadn’t been running since Peter took over. He wanted to wait until they had eyes on Tony before bringing Peter in to end the whole fucking thing. 

Seeing Tony tied to a chair was the last way Peter anticipated spending his evening with the other man. Doom, an old business partner of Ben’s, was looking to get retribution – his claim to half the empire he’d rebuilt and structured for success a joke, but enough to push him to desperate measures. Both of Tony’s eyes were puffy, his lips littered with gashes from getting hit and struggling against the bandana tied around his mouth. 

His hands were restlessly pulling at the cuffs on his wrists, Tony’s shoulders shifting every which way the entire time Peter stared at him, his heart sitting in his throat. Turning his attention back to Doom, Peter listened to him talk about his uncle’s betrayal and the rightfulness of him gaining everything back to finally be the one on top. The banter went on just long enough for Peter to notice Tony’s arms were no longer shifting and he was looking directly at him.

He should have known – the man was one of many talents, picking locks fortunately one of them. “You’re crazy, I hope you know that. I grew up in this shit, Doom – you’ve known me practically my whole life. There was never a time when everything wasn’t coming to me. You’re nothing but trouble,” Peter said, his voice a little louder – his hope of being enough of a distraction allowing the words to fall from his mouth. 

“I don’t owe you shit,” he remarked, his eyes motioning for Tony to finally move. The handcuffs were used to bat the gun from Doom’s hand – the force of the abuse just enough to take his attention off of the two men in the room. Peter’s shot was accurate, hitting him right in the chest. Happy barreled into the room at the sound of the gun and proceeded to fire two more rounds before feeling satisfied. 

Ignoring everything else, Peter ran over to Tony – his boyfriend’s right eye almost swollen completely shut at that point. “Tony, you absolutely brilliant fuck,” Peter mumbled, his lips pressing everywhere they could reach. He helped pull the gag from Tony’s mouth and over his head. 

An instant sigh of relief left the man’s lips, his hand moving to cup Peter’s cheeks. “I’m a mechanic – I’ve always got shit in my pockets. They waited until I got here to put me in the cuffs,” Tony murmured, his voice scratchy and rough from disuse, from struggling against fabric keeping him from speaking. 

Shaking his head, Peter wrapped Tony in his arms, his nose pressing into the matted down hair against his forehead. “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.” 

It took a bit of cleaning up – the scene they left behind; but that’s what he paid Happy and his crew the big bucks for. The need to get Tony anywhere else pressed against every nerve in Peter’s body. He forced Happy to hand over the keys to the Cadillac – his demeanor sparing no room for argument when his head of security tried to cut in with some kind of argument. They hobbled out to the car and then back to Peter’s house. 

Their first stop was the shower, where he washed, kissed, and nipped every inch of Tony’s body. He paid extra attention to the areas that were already starting to bruise – his boyfriend’s body littered with marks from shoes and fists. He cleaned them thoroughly, his eyes a little watery from the grimace he could see Tony trying to hide. Vulnerability seeped from him for the first time since meeting the man. Fear and anxiety and gratefulness battled in the depth of honey-brown eyes, his gaze never leaving Peter’s. 

The breakdown came a little while later. Peter wrapped himself as tightly around Tony as he could be with all the aches and pains. His fingers ran methodically through his thick hair, lips pressing against his forehead every so often – just to remind himself that Tony was still there. Tony stayed uncharacteristically silent, his muscles tensed and bunched beneath Peter’s hands. The fight or flight hormones were more than likely still wreaking havoc on his body – adrenaline still fresh in his system. Peter trailed his hand under Tony’s borrowed shirt until he could feel his flesh – the tips of his fingers lingering on the raised flesh, the bruises so easy to pick out. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Peter whispered after a while, the guilt he felt so heavy on his chest. He felt Tony try to wiggle away, but he wouldn’t let him – Peter kept him close, his nose still pressed against his neck. He kissed the skin there, tasting it – reminding himself again. 

He couldn’t pinpoint what did it, but Peter all of the sudden had a bawling Tony Stark in his arms, the man turning until he could press his face into Peter’s chest. His body shook, the sobs quaking his chest, probably hurting the bruises all over his body even more. Peter didn’t know what to do, so he simply held on, his fingers gripping, touching bare skin, providing tangibility. He wondered, for the few minutes that Tony’s cries were so heart wrenching, if the man even knew what was happening. 

It seemed kind of like a catharsis – like his body’s natural way of let off all the steam that’d been bubbling up since Tony started to fight for his survival. The reminder of what he could have lost made Peter grit his teeth – that simple thought was the one downside to this terrible fucking lifestyle. His brain wouldn’t even let him contemplate what it would be like without Tony by his side – there wouldn’t be simplicity, just loneliness. Tony made him better – he couldn’t run from that. 

Peter marveled in the press of Tony against his chest, the heaving sobs eventually coming to a stop, and finally, there was only dead weight and breath puffing against his neck. The wet spot on his t-shirt felt a little uncomfortable, but Pete couldn’t imagine moving for anything – Tony looked to at least be settled. 

For the next however long the man needed to sleep, Peter planned to be glued to the bed, providing whatever comfort Tony might need. Though his boyfriend knew what he was getting into involving himself with someone like Peter, being kidnapped and held at gunpoint probably never crossed his mind. A part of him wondered if something like this could run Tony off – make him finally come to his senses and retreat from the life Peter immersed himself in. The louder bit of him struggled to believe there was ever getting rid of Tony Stark. He handled himself with grace that evening – someone squeamish wouldn’t have stood a chance. 

Settling in, Peter tightened his arms around Tony a little bit more. If that night taught him anything, it was that love made him weak – weak in a way that made him the strongest he’d ever been. Tony proved he’d do anything for him, Peter thought that maybe it was his turn to do the same.

\---- 

It took a little while to get back to normal – Peter didn’t let Tony out of his sight for the first couple of weeks. He let Happy handle a lot of the day-to-day stuff so he could spend the day in the shop with Tony, or lavish the man with attention when he wasn’t working. It wasn’t healthy – he knew that. Following Tony around wouldn’t stop the target from being painted on his back, in fact, it probably made it worse. Yet, Peter didn’t have it in him to stop. 

It didn’t seem like Tony minded much, either. Calloused hands were just as needy pulling him in, long arms wrapped around him and kept him closer just a little bit longer – for the first time in their relationship, Tony was actually seeking something out. Which made sense, Peter spent his life immersed in the grit of organized crime and still woke up in a sweat, his hands shaking from the memories. His boyfriend didn’t have nearly as much experience, though he didn’t often let it show. 

Peter would have continued to let it happen, too – he was perfectly content to bug out of his own responsibilities and spend the time with the only other person in the world he trusted implicitly. By the end of the first month, he couldn’t decide who he kept doing it for, either. For the most part, Tony was healing nicely. There were a few darker bruises that held onto the sickly yellow-purplish color and a couple of cuts on his face that would probably never really go away – but he was getting there. Their nights together were only sometimes interrupted by emotional outbursts or nightmares. With each passing day, Tony got a little bit stronger – his body and outer protective shell gaining power. The passing days brought the man one step closer to being the man he was before – only better. 

Yet, Peter found himself unable to pull away – even thought he could see Tony getting better, owning his shit like always. Maybe he used Tony as an excuse because he actually wanted to be there – wanted to keep Tony in a protective bubble, out of harm’s way. It felt stupid – being so aware of how much he needed to keep the man safe. Never in his life did something like this affect him – never. 

It wasn’t a lie, when Peter said he’d been in the shit from day one. His parents were killed because of the business and when little orphan Peter went to stay with Ben and May – he knew there was no turning back. Even at the ripe age of 7, Peter knew enough. That sort of thing hardened a person, pulled back the layers of humanity and replaced them with something else, something not nearly as nice.

Settling into the thought that another person made him worry and care was harder to stomach than he could have anticipated. Things were easier when Peter could look at Tony as his – just that – his. After watching the man take on the world for him and come out on the other side only a little bit battered – every part of Peter understood that wasn’t all Tony was to him. His, for sure – there was no denying that. A person didn’t walk through fire for just anyone. There was more to it now, though – a depth of feeling, a need to protect, an overwhelming desire to see the tangible evidence of the ease of Tony’s existence – not just ownership. The idea of actually having a heart to be ripped out of his chest was surprising and life altering – all in one fell swoop. 

Like most things, Tony stepped in and brought his impeccable sense of calm with him. They’d been in the garage all day, Peter still not used to the heat in the place – his entire being sweating what felt like every ounce of moisture from his pores. Swiping at his forehead, Peter watched Tony interact with the guy he now knew to be Sam. “I started the timing belt in the Jeep at the end. Finish it up and then get out of here. I’m calling it for today.” That self-assurance and power was still able to get him going after just one syllable. His boyfriend turned to look at him then, a smirk on his lips. “This one might melt, if not,” Tony finished, his grin widening. Peter felt himself blush, despite the fact that Peter Parker did not, for any reason, show emotion. Licking his lips, he ducked his head and hid a snort – Tony really wasn’t all that far off. 

Owning the entire building, Peter was first surprised to find out that Tony lived above the shop. Now, the ease in which they could be away from the heat and hustle of the garage felt like a gift. In a complicated world, simplicity was nice every now and again. He followed Tony closely up the stairs, his hands moving to catch whatever part of the man’s body that he could – another thing he couldn’t stop himself from doing since getting Tony back. At the top of the stairs, Peter was pulled into Tony’s arms – those sinewy muscles tugging under the skin while he did. Leaning into the touch, Peter closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. Peter tried to deepen their connection – his head tilting to maximize the angle. Tony pulled back, though – his eyes searching.

“I need you to not take this the wrong way, Pete,” Tony began, familiar fingers slipping under the slight gap of Peter’s shirt. “You need to go back to work.” While he spoke, he explored Peter’s face, their eyes clicking together after a second. Peter could tell he was trying to get the words right. “Happy called me yesterday and you’re needed there. I get it, Pete. I’m so grateful that you’ve been here – helping me, taking care of me. I needed it. And you.” He felt Tony press him closer, their chests now plastered together, breaths shared. “Now, I need you to go be the boss man that you are. I’m not going to break – I promise.” 

For the second time in less than half an hour, Peter felt his face color – the red now deep in his cheeks, slip-sliding slowly down the length of his neck and onto his chest. He wondered when something like this would come – he’d been avoiding Happy for five straight days. All his calls and texts, even the thumps against his door – Peter wanted to stay in this bubble and wasn’t going to be the one to pop it. That’s what Tony was there for, though – his calm in the storm. 

“Fuck – you’re right. This little bubble we’ve been living in is a lot nicer than the norm, you know? Starting the day knowing I’m going to see you for most of it – it’s nice, Tony. I needed a break from all of that shit – but you’re right.” 

He didn’t hesitate to press another kiss to Tony’s lips – the need to reassure overwhelming him. “And I know you’re not going to break. I just worry. I can’t lose you,” Peter admitted, his forehead leaning against Tony’s. “I fucking can’t. You have to know that.” 

Tony snuck both hands under the back of Peter’s shirt then – the man knowing just how reassuring his touch was. He huffed out a small laugh at the kiss on his nose. “I do. I totally do. But – I also want to learn how to protect myself. My fighting is a little rusty – but I could cajole Happy into the ring no problem. I want you to teach me how to shoot. I want to learn from the best,” Tony muttered softly, the words barely making it into the air between them. 

A grin slipped across Peter’s face – the request one he would absolutely love to comply with. His lips found Tony’s in a chaste kiss, a light in his eye for the first time the entire conversation. “I think we can make that happen. You can pick what you want to shoot when I come pick you up from work later,” Peter decided, his spirit light – the fog he’d been existing in lifting a little. Of course Tony wanted to know how to take care of himself. The man’s brain was big and that alone was usually enough to get him out of shit. When it wasn’t, he wanted to be prepared – and Peter was stupidly in love with him for it. 

They started later that night with Peter teaching Tony everything he needed to know about the gun itself. He took it apart piece by piece, told him what each of them did, then reassembled it. Tony was quick to catch on and could take it apart and put it back together in no time. Peter talked about the safety mechanism of the hammer, Ben’s ‘locked, cocked, and ready to rock’ coming out of his lips easily. Tony’s laugh brought a smile to his face, the memories changing shape into something a little less dark. The gun range was empty, so Peter didn’t hesitate to use fingers under Tony’s chin to pull him into a kiss. “You look good with a Smith & Wesson 1911 in your hand, Tony Stark,” Peter told him, his free hand swatting him lightly on the ass.

Satisfaction swam through him, the noticeable blush on Tony’s cheeks a rarity – his boyfriend very much in control of his emotions. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down ever so slightly. Focus, he thought – Tony wanted to learn, he needed to keep his shit together. Putting a bit of space between them, Peter walked into the shooting stall and set the range distance for 50 feet. It took him a minute to settle in front of the lane – then he shot, each one hitting right in the middle of the target. A satisfied nod later, Peter set the gun down, emptied and reloaded a new clip, and turned – noticing Tony in the stall now, watching over his back. “Damn, Pete,” Tony sputtered, his eyes hot – piercing. 

“You’re learning from the best, baby,” Peter replied with a wink, his hand motioning Tony over all the while. He moved until Tony was standing right in front of the target, then crowded his space – both arms slipping around Tony’s waist to rest there. The gun in Tony’s hand was a deep black, the hammer and handle coated in the color. The scales on the sides were an ivory, the off-white color a nice contrast to the dark color of the base. “First things first – “ he started, the hands on Tony’s hips moving to his thighs. “Square your stance up until you’re about shoulder width apart.” Peter felt the tremor up Tony’s back when he tapped both his legs – the man moving quickly to comply. “You’re right-handed – so you’ll want that one gripping the base. Don’t wrap your finger on the tripper, let it rest on the little groove on the side of the gun. Your left hand is going to grip around the empty side.” 

He let Tony rearrange his hand before shifting a little. Peter ran his hands up Tony’s side and down his arms until they were resting on top of the other’s. Gently, he fixed his grip until Tony looked like a natural holding the thing. “When you go to shoot, you need to grip the handle tightly – you’ll reduce some of the movement of your other fingers that way. The 1911 has a single-trigger pump, so you’ll need to squeeze once and keep the pressure until the shot breaks.” Peter dropped his hands then, the energy coiled in Tony almost hot to the touch. “There’s going to be a little bit of kickback, so keep your base of support stable and lean forward a little.” 

Tony nodded; his eyes focused in front of him. The first shot landed quite a bit off target – the man looking over his shoulder immediately for guidance. “You’re pulling the trigger back too quickly. Keep it smooth. And don’t hold your breath – nice and steady, baby. Nice and steady,” Peter kept his voice low and soothing, an encouraging smile on his face. Another nod and the man was shooting again, this time, the placement of the bullet much better – Tony an obvious natural. 

It took four clips for him to really seem comfortable with the gun in his hands. Peter enjoyed watching Tony get better each time, his confidence growing by the second. He always admired that in the man – how well he understood himself, how he learned and absorbed and just – knew things. The muffs they were wearing to protect their ears sat charmingly on Tony’s head and made him look so sexy. The whole vision in front of him really was a little too good to be true. Shaking his head, he walked further into the stall when Tony dislodged his latest clip and put the gun down. 

Pulling both Tony’s and his own ear protectors off, Peter brushed two of his fingers down the side of his boyfriend’s face, the tip of them ending just under his chin. He used those fingers to tilt Tony’s chin up – their gazes catching. “That’s scary and fun and I think I might like to keep doing that. Makes me feel like a badass,” Tony babbled, his eyes wide – the hands he held up to his sides shaking – adrenaline so obviously rushing through him. “Thanks, Pete. For this.” His last words were whispered against Peter’s lips, Tony closing the small distance between them effortlessly. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you – even if that means teaching you how to protect yourself. I live a messed-up life, but I want you in it. By my side. I want you to want to be there, too – and feel safe doing it.” He wrapped his free hand around Tony’s middle, pulling their bodies together. They shared another kiss – then Tony was pulling back, a smug smile on his face. 

“I’m here – I want to be here. And I want to protect you, too. This,” Tony emphasized, his hand sweeping out to the side, gesturing to the gun, the range – to the situation. “This helps. Even if I never have to use it – at least I know. I like knowing – that we’re safe, and that maybe I can try and keep it that way for a little while.” Peter watched Tony shrug his shoulders and color – the blush determined to stick around. He wanted to kiss it off, trap the color within him – draw it and remember the shade – the very moments like this one something he couldn’t admit to never wanting to forget. 

Wrapping his arms more fully around him, Peter pulled Tony into a tight hug, his head resting against the other’s. Tony’s grip around Peter’s shoulders pulled him into that warm chest – and he let himself relax, his whole world in the circle of his arms.

“Mine,” Peter whispered, his lips pressing against the side of Tony’s head. 

Tony chuckled, the vibration of it warming Peter to the very core. 

“Yeah, Pete. Yours.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around, guys! 
> 
> My job is from home for the rest of the summer, so I've got a long list of things I'm really excited to put to paper. If you've got some ideas of your own, or want to see something written - leave a comment below. 
> 
> I'm loving all of the interaction with you guys! I'm ohwereusingourmadeupnames on Tumblr, if you want to follow along there, too. 
> 
> Y'all are the best!


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